My first Hetalia fic. I came up with it when trying to make my friend cry.
Life can be confusing sometimes. As I look back I find myself thinking "did I make the right decisions?" These thoughts seem to occur during the quietest moment of my day, before I sleep, so I know they are my deepest thoughts. When I make my way towards our bedroom, funny, it still feels odd to say"our", I feel as though eyes are watching me, as if they can see my inner turmoil. Quietly slipping into bed, I begin to mentally prepare myself for another hour of self doubt.
Laying awake in bed I listened to the sounds of the house. The soft hum of the refrigerator to the slow breaths of the man sleeping next to me. The most distinctive noise though is the creak of the stairs, as though someone is walking up and down them. The feeling of those eyes appeared again, the eyes that are silently watching, judging, and pitying. I glanced over at the man I know to be my husband, the questions of " Am I living the right life?" and "Am I really satisfied with this 'happiness'?" came to mind.
Sighing, I leaned into my pillow and thought back to before, when things were simple and everyday was like a new adventure. I never thought I would find myself missing the days of my youth. I still remember the punk I considered to be my best friend. I still wish we hadn't separated on such awful terms. I wondered if I had stayed with him if I would have been happier.
Thoughts like these are what keep me from moving forward. It's as if my old self doesn't want me to let go of any of my past and move on. My mind constantly reminds me of the consequence of my decision to marry. I had lost my best friend over a fight, all for a man who merely married me out of convenience. How stupid could I be?
Finally my eyes grew heavy. The sleep that had eluded me before finally allowed me to be overcome with it. I readied for my fatigue to take control of my body. I had already been left to my thoughts and worries long enough. Before closing my eyes I silently wished the eyes that watched me a good night. This was February 25, 1947.
February 26, 1947
When I awoke this morning I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I carried on my day as normal, cooking, cleaning, and reading in the library. In the afternoon there was a knock on the door. Upon answering it the first thing I noticed was the man's uniform. He was dressed in a formal uniform, his chest decorated with medals and ribbons. He greeted me politely and asked if he may come in, to which I allowed him entrance.
We made our way to the parlor where I offered him a drink, he declined, stating he was on official business. Gesturing for me to sit, I did so immediately. He started speaking to me about the greatness of Prussia and its military. After a while I asked him why exactly he was here. Immediately his facial expression became grim. Reaching into his coat he retrieved two envelopes, one more tattered than the other. Handing them to me he said that they would explain everything.
I opened the pure white envelope first. Inside I found a letter accompanied by a necklace with an iron cross pendant. Reading the letter I couldn't believe what I saw. It informed me of how my old friend, the one who haunted my thoughts, had joined the military and had served honorably. Then I saw the one line no one wants to read, the "We are sorry to inform you..." sentence, and yet there it was as plain as day on the parchment in my hands. Reading further I saw that it would not tell me how it happened but that he was gone.
When the soldier attempted to comfort me was when I realized that I had been crying. After a moment I apologized and asked him to leave. Once he was gone I made my way up to the library. I sat in the bay window and opened the second letter, addressed to me in sloppy but familiar handwriting. Reading through the first enclosed letter I found myself laughing at parts that showed his normal antics. However, as I continued to read the other letters I felt my small smile fade. I saw how my old friend was changed by the conflict and inevitably, the chance of death. When I reached the very end I began to cry. His signature reminded me that these few pieces of paper and necklace are all I have left of him. Lowering the letters I stared out the window and silently cried, knowing now that my greatest regret was in fact not staying with him.